“Plait-il?” said she. I recovered a little and continued,—“Μῆνιν ἀεῖδε, θεά,” and “that Egypt was a present from the Nile.”… I feel quite sure that I should have made her acquaintance if one of my companions had not at that moment given me such a punch in the back that I stumbled with much violence against the booth. I felt a grasp at my neck, a second one much lower, and before I had time to think about my position, I was inside the tent with the Greek, who told me in very intelligible French, that I was a “gamin,” and that he would call the “police.” Now, I was very near the girl, but it gave me no pleasure at all. I cried, and prayed for mercy, for I was much afraid. But there was no help for it; the Greek took hold of my arm, and kicked me. I looked for my comrades. We had just read that morning about Scævola, who put his hand in the fire——and in our Latin themes we thought it so fine and so elevated——Pooh! nobody stayed to put his hand in the fire for me!! So I thought. But all of a sudden, our friend of the Plaid, or Shawlman, as we shall call him, rushed through the back entrance into the booth. He was then neither [[18]]tall nor strong, and only thirteen years old, but he was a brave and nimble little fellow. I still see the sparkling of his eyes; he gave the Greek a blow with his fist, and I was saved. Afterwards I heard that the Greek drubbed him soundly, but as I have a steady principle never to meddle with other people’s business, I ran away immediately, and so I did not see it.
That is the reason why his face reminded me so much of perfumes, and how easy it is in Amsterdam to quarrel with a Greek.
Afterwards, whenever that man was with his booth on the Wester Market, I always went elsewhere to amuse myself.
As I am very fond of philosophical observations, I must be allowed to remark how strangely all things hang together in this world. If the eyes of that girl had been lighter, if her tresses had been shorter, or the boys had not pushed me against the booth, you would not now be reading this book: therefore be thankful for all that happened. Believe me, everything in the world is good, as it is, and those discontented men who are always full of complaints are not my friends. There you have Busselinck and Waterman …; but I must go on, for I have to finish my book before the great Spring Coffee Auction. To speak the truth—for I like truth—I felt it very unpleasant to meet that person again. I saw in a moment that he was not an acquaintance to be proud of. He looked very [[19]]pale, and when I asked him what o’clock it was, he didn’t know! These things a man observes who has frequented the Exchange for twenty years or so, and transacted business there.——I’ve witnessed many a crash.
I thought he would turn to the right, and therefore I went to the left; but, lo, he too turned to the left, and so I was in for a conversation with him; but I bore in mind that he did not know what o’clock it was, and perceived at the same time that his coat was buttoned up to his chin, which is a very bad sign, so I did not speak much. He told me that he had been in India, that he was married, and had children. All very well; but this was not very interesting to me. At the Kapelsteeg,[1]—I never before went through that steeg,[2] because it is not considered respectable,—but this time I intended to turn to the right, and pass through the Kapelsteeg,—I waited till that little street was just behind us, to make him understand that his way was straight on, and then I said very politely—for I am always polite: one never knows whether he may not afterwards want to use a person:—“I am very much pleased that I have seen you again, Sir, … and … and, good-bye.… I have to go this way.” Then he looked like an idiot at me and sighed, and all of a sudden took hold of one of the buttons of my coat … “Dear Drystubble,” said he, “I have to ask you something.” [[20]]
I trembled all over. He did not know what o’clock it was, and had to ask me something! Of course I replied that “I had no time to spare, and had to go to the Exchange,” though it was evening;—but if you have frequented the Exchange for some twenty years … and a person asks you something without knowing what o’clock it is … I disengaged the button, bade him farewell in a polite manner—for I am always polite—and went through the Kapelsteeg, which I otherwise never do, because it is not fashionable, and fashionableness I like above all things. I hope that nobody saw me. [[21]]
[1] Kapelsteeg = Butterfly Lane. [↑]